


Just One Dance

by LarasLandlockedBlues



Series: Lightning Struck [12]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Casual Sex, Cullen Rutherford Smut, Cullen Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Irritated Colleagues to Lovers, Loud Sex, Modern Thedas, One Shot, Shameless Smut, Smut, Tumblr Prompt, unestablished relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-08
Updated: 2018-01-08
Packaged: 2019-03-02 02:51:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13308879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LarasLandlockedBlues/pseuds/LarasLandlockedBlues
Summary: Tumblr Prompt:"Just pretend to be my date."Cullen asks for help from the last person he'd usually seek out, but an evening he dreads turns into confusion as it reveals things they both didn't realize they wanted.





	Just One Dance

“I’m sorry, you need a  _what_?”

He groans and looks around, hoping no one around them is listening. “Keep your voice down, would you please -”

“I’m just trying to make sure I understand,” she says, but she finally lowers her voice. “You’re asking me out on a -”

“No, not - not really,” he feels his cheeks flush. “I don’t even want to go, but I have to. I just - it’s expected that we bring someone.”

“So you’re asking  _me_?” Evelyn raises her eyebrows at him, looking thoroughly surprised. “I would have thought I’d be the last person you asked, considering I’m a  _mage_ -”

“I just need someone, and I know you’re not busy,” Cullen hurries to explain. He doesn’t want her to read too much into this, he doesn’t want her to get the idea that he likes her. “Just please, just - pretend to be my date.”

She frowns at him. “Why do you even care if you have someone to go with you? You’re a loner, you never do anything with anyone. I’d assume a simple  _military ball_ wouldn’t be any different.”

“Everyone will have a date,” he sighs. “I just - I don’t want to be asked all night where mine is.”

“So instead you want to be asked how you met me, whether we’re together - whether you  _like_ me?” Her tone is dripping with humor. She’s trying to goad him into snapping at her, into arguing with her like normal.

He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. He can’t snap at her, not right now, even though she’s trying to irritate him. He’s desperate, he needs her to say yes. “Please, Evelyn, I - I need your help.”

She stares at him for a moment, the look in her eyes curious as she carefully regards him. Finally she sighs and shakes her head, looking bemused. “Fine, Cullen, I will. When is it?”

“It’s in two days, I-”

“You’re giving me two days to find a dress?” she nearly shrieks, and then she arches her neck and closes her eyes, taking deep breaths. “It’s fine, it’s fine. I’ll just call Marian, we’ll go shopping. Send me the details and I’ll - I’ll see you then, I guess.”

He watches as she walks away, wondering why his heart is racing a bit more than normal.

When the evening finally rolls around, he finds himself hesitating outside her apartment door, trying to take a steadying breath before he knocks. He’s glad he does, because when she opens the door he finds his breath taken away by the sight of her.

Her long hair is curled and hanging over one shoulder, standing out in beautiful contrast to her white skin, the midnight black strands glimmering almost blue in the light. Her dress is shimmering, it’s sparkling with each of her movements and all it does is draw his attention to how the silvery white fabric is clinging to her curves.

He feels his mouth go dry as he takes in the sight of her, and then he realizes she’s staring at him expectantly. He clears his throat. “You - you look nice, Evelyn.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Being nice for a change?” she asks. 

He wants to retort, he wants to roll his eyes and be irritated. But the sight of her in that dress has ruined his normal ability to dislike her or annoy her. “Just telling the truth,” he finally grits out. “Are you ready?”

She smirks and nods, closing her door behind her. Instinctively he holds an arm out to her, and he notices she pauses for a moment before she slips her hand into the crook of his elbow. “Quite the gentleman,” she teases.

Inwardly he groans. Somehow, he can’t stop thinking about the feeling of her hand on his arm, and suddenly he notices a slight pressure. She has her fingers turned, and she’s actually lightly squeezing his upper arm.

“Are you - are you feeling my muscles?” he asks, and he’s not sure if he’s surprised or wants to laugh.

She blushes but one corner of her mouth tries to tug up in a smile. “Can you blame me? That uniform looks good on you.”

_Is she flirting with him?_

She can’t be. She’s Evelyn, the one who always fights him over their differences in each and every opinion they both have. Who rolls her eyes at everything he says. Who never seems to be able to go five minutes without making him want to wring her neck.

The car ride is sufficiently awkward.

Walking through the receiving line and tripping over introducing her as his date is sufficiently awkward, especially when he introduces her as his partner instead of just his date.

“Partner?” she hisses at him as he rushes her into the ballroom. “Are you-”

“It’s habit, I meant it from work, but -”

“Oh, I know you did, but now you’ve made us sound like we’re some sort of - of live-in lovers, like we’ve been together for  _years_ -”

He’s laughing, because in a way they have been. Just not romantically. A waiter passes them with a tray of drinks, and Cullen immediately grabs two flutes of champagne and hands one to her.

He’s surprised when she drains it all in one go.

“Does being here with me make you that nervous?” he asks in a harried whisper.

“Only if you keep introducing me as your  _partner_ ,” she groans.

When another waiter passes with drinks, she takes another glass and drains it as well.

It doesn’t get better from there. The conversation at dinner is stilted, and he’s worried the whole time that people will figure out she’s not really his date, that he had to promise her a favor with her work for her to accompany him. That he had to beg her to help him.

After a few more drinks, though, they’re finally both smiling, and aren’t as uptight when people ask them how they met. Dessert is served while people make speeches, and she’s leaning against him, whispering commentary on things she’s observing around the room.

She smells like rain, and he feels himself warming in his uniform as he watches her giggle and bat her eyelashes as she talks to someone at their table. She’s certainly loosened up, and he feels more at ease as well. Soon, they’re talking easily with everyone around them, laughing and telling stories.

People are starting to tell him to hold on to her, that she’s a great catch.

That they make a cute couple.

He feels himself flush, and he stutters through a ‘thank you’ even though he thinks that the last woman he could ever be with is her. They’re just too different, always butting heads over every little thing.

Yet when the dancing starts, she leans over to his ear. “We should dance,” she whispers, her hot breath sending shivers down his spine as it tickles his ear.

“I don’t dance,” he says, shaking his head and clearing his throat.

“Oh come on, we need to make it believable,” she says, and she scoots her chair back and stands. “Dance with me.”

He stares at the hand she has outstretched, and considers saying no. But the eager look in her eyes tugs at something inside him, and he decides to give in. With a sigh he stands and takes her hand, leading her to the dance floor. He pulls her into his arms, one hand holding hers, the other wrapped around her waist.

Her dress is low cut in the back, and his hand is resting on her soft, warm skin. She places her hand on his chest, and smiles up at him.

Time seems to slow, and though he can hear the music it’s like it’s coming to him from a great distance as he stares into her unusual eyes. Neither of them says a word, and neither of them looks away. They sway on the spot, and he holds her tight against him. She doesn’t seem to mind at all that he’s not a good dancer.

Indeed, she can’t seem to take her eyes off of him, her neck craning as she peers up into his face.

When the song ends, they don’t stop dancing.

They don’t stop until the band has stopped playing, and people are beginning to leave.

He clears his throat. “I - I should drive you home,” he says as he finally, reluctantly releases her.

“Right - home, yes,” she nods, and almost sighs.

The ride home is awkward again, but this time the silence is full of a tension that wasn’t there before. His fingers are tingling from the memory of her skin against them as he held her, the front of him still warm from how he had held her body against him.

When he walks her to her door, she turns and looks up at him, holding her keys but hesitating to put them in the lock. “I - I actually had a good time tonight, Cullen,” she says.

He holds her gaze, and only pauses a moment before he gives in to the urge that suddenly overcomes his better sense.

He wraps his arms around her and presses her back against her door, his mouth crashing down on hers as she gasps. As soon as his lips twist against hers, her sounds of surprise give way to moans, and her fingers are suddenly raking their way through his hair.

“Cullen, I -” she pulls away and looks up at him, her brows knitting together.

“Let’s just - forget who we are, just for one night,” he murmurs against her lips. He presses another fierce kiss to her lips, and she stands on her tiptoes and wraps her arms more tightly around his neck.

The rest happens so quickly that he’s not sure exactly how it starts.

She fumbles with the lock in the door, still kissing him as much as she can while still accomplishing her task. They make it inside and to her bedroom, kicking off their shoes and beginning to remove the many parts of his uniform and her dress before they fall back in her bed.

Their hands and mouths are everywhere, as if they’re unable to get enough of each other. She’s gasping his name against his mouth, and when he begins to slide his fingers along her, spreading her wet excitement, she breaks away from the kiss to give a loud cry.

“Cullen, fuck me,” she gasps.

He never thought he’d hear those words from her, even though there have been so many times he’s thought about it, so many times he’s dreamt of hearing her say them. All the times she irritated him, when he couldn’t decide if he wanted to throttle her in frustration or bend her over a desk and spank her until it hurt for her to sit the next morning.

He doesn’t even consider saying no. He thrusts himself into her eagerly, relishing each and every sound she makes as he begins to take her hard and fast. Her headboard is banging on the wall, and he’s fairly certain he hears her neighbor pound on the wall and shout something in response.

He can’t bring himself to care. Instead he moves within her desperately, watching in awe as the woman who drives him craziest falls apart beneath him as she sobs his name. The sight of her arching her breasts toward him as she convulses and shudders in response to a euphoria  _he_ gave her stirs something deep in his belly. When he finds his own release he shouts her name, his vision blackens as his whole body feels the intense pleasure course through him until it's like he’s on fire.

He collapses on top of her, and they breathe heavily for a long time before he rolls over and pulls her with him into his arms to sleep. It’s a dreamless, peaceful sleep. His first in years.

But when they wake up in the morning, they look around and then at each other, and their eyes grow wide at exactly the same moment.

Whatever they were before, enemies, begrudging coworkers, reluctant allies, barely friends…

They’re certainly not sure what they are now.


End file.
